Before
you fire up an extra joint or two to celebrate federal Justice
Minister Martin Cauchon's plans to decriminalize the simple possession
of marijuana, take a minute to consider what's really being proposed.
We do, of course, believe that Cauchon's stated intentions --
if they're actually sincere -- are a step in the right direction.

What
he's just signalled, on the heels of a Dec. 12 parliamentary
committee report that recommended decriminalization, is that
within the first four months of 2003, he'll introduce legislation
to the effect that those found with small amounts of weed will
only be fined and will not be charged criminally.

What
a small amount consists of is yet to be determined, though the
committee did recommend a limit of 30 grams (about an ounce,
or, say, 50 average-sized joints), and also said people should
also be able to grow that much for their personal consumption.
Overall, this would be an eminently sensible approach to regulating
the drug, given the amount of police and court time eaten up
by small-time marijuana offences, not to mention how unevenly
simple possession laws are currently enforced and prosecuted
across the country.

If
legislation actually happens (and there's reason to think Cauchon
is bluffing), recreational users will indeed have something to
cheer about in the new year. But the troubling part is that medical
marijuana users, or federal exemptees -- the people legally entitled
to smoke the stuff to alleviate the symptoms of severe illness
-- are probably going to be left out of Cauchon's march to freedom.
And that, given the legal hoops they've already jumped through,
is a national shame.

Under
decriminalization, supplying or trafficking in marijuana would
still be a criminal offence. Now, some pot advocates will argue
that, overall, it makes no sense to decriminalize demand without
decriminalizing supply. But this especially holds true when it
comes to medical-marijuana users. They need a high-quality, consistent
source of the drug -- the kind of supply offered by the compassion
clubs and centres that have sprung up around the country, who
distribute despite the risk of sudden police busts (you may recall
the controversial, out-of-the-blue bust that closed down the
Toronto Compassion Centre this summer).

Indeed,
medical users won the right to toke in a landmark 2000 court
ruling. Yet by all accounts, in practice, they're still screwed.
Federal health minister Anne McClellan backtracked this spring
on the issue, saying she was experiencing some "discomfort" at
allowing exemptees access to the government weed that's been
grown in an old mine in Flin Flon, Man., without years' worth
of scientific tests or some such nonsense (a court case was launched
in Ontario this fall to force the federal government to distribute
it). And we note with dismay the recent stories about a cancer
patient who fought to have local police return his home-grown
plants.

So
yes, Minister Cauchon, move ahead with decriminalization this
spring. But while you're at it, make sure your cabinet colleagues
get their collective ass in gear and distribute the weed that's
already been grown under their auspices. Most importantly, as
part of your pending legislation, you need to legalize supply,
especially in the case of compassion clubs, those organizations
dedicated to providing safe, consistent cannabis to people who
desperately need it and are legally able to have it.

Medical
users have made a lot of noise before, and they'll make it again,
no doubt. If that doesn't work, they'll continue to use the courts
to ensure their legal rights are put into practice.
But they absolutely shouldn't have to.

Man
caught toking and driving
denies he was impaired

November,
2002
CBC News

KILLALOE,
ONT. - An Ottawa Valley man stopped by police for smoking pot
while driving is challenging the idea that marijuana impairs
one's ability to drive. 'The single, common denominator among
all the studies of marijuana and driving is that it makes you
drive more slowly' —Reimer Rick Reimer, a retired lawyer
from Killaloe, Ont., has multiple sclerosis and has a Health
Canada exemption to smoke marijuana to deal with his disease.

Rick Reimer uses Medical Marijuana In front
of the
Killaloe courthouse, lit joint in his hand, he declared
that he isn't worried about driving while smoking pot.

Retired
lawyer Rick Reimer, talking and toking outside the Killaloe
courthouse "I can say unequivocally that marijuana does not
effect my ability to drive at all," said Reimer. Officer Brad
Burton, on the other hand, said he saw Reimer swerving and
crossing the centre line. When Burton pulled him over, Reimer
stepped out of his car with a joint in his mouth.

Reimer
admits that he was smoking pot while he was driving, but denies
he was impaired. Because of his Health Canada exemption, the
officer didn't charge him with possession of marijuana, but he
did charge him with impaired driving.

B.C.
police say looser pot laws will make their job harder Reimer
is defending himself in the case and on Thursday he cross-examined
a toxicologist who said marijuana does impair a person's ability
to drive. Reimer presented studies that show the opposite. "The
single, common denominator among all the studies of marijuana
and driving is that it makes you drive more slowly," says Reimer.
Then, when asked to produce statistics to prove the drug caused
accidents, the same toxicologist couldn't provide any.

The
trial went into recess Thursday and will resume sometime next
year.

Charges
stayed in
Medical Marijuana case

December,
2002 - CBC News

MONTREAL
- It is unconstitutional to let some people use marijuana for
medical reasons but then deny them an opportunity to get the
drug, a Quebec judge ruled Thursday. He stopped the drug trafficking
trial of two men who had distributed pot through an organization
known as the Compassion Club. A "stay of proceedings" was ordered,
which lawyers said was tantamount to the charges being dismissed.

Marc-Boris
Saint-Maurice

The
decision means the trial will not go ahead. Marc-Boris Saint-Maurice
Marc-Boris Saint-Maurice and Alexandre Neron were charged with
possession and trafficking the drug in 2000 after police raided
the Compassion Club and found 66 grams of marijuana.

Saint-Maurice
was the organization's director, and Neron and employee. People
who favour relaxing the laws on marijuana as well as people in
law enforcement watched the case closely. Quebec court Judge
Gilles Cadieux postponed his decision several times before ruling
that people who use the drug as medicine need a safe and legal
place to acquire it. Otherwise, these Canadians lose basic rights
to life and liberty. Although the judge stopped the trafficking
trial, he stopped short of ruling on the constitutionality of
marijuana laws.

The
Crown didn't said if it will appeal the decision. "We've been
vindicated," Saint-Maurice told CBC Newsworld after the judgment
was released. Montreal's Compassion Club, which was shut down,
reopened three weeks ago.

Pot's
the only thing that eases woman's pain

Jane
Parker of Annapolis County has permission from
the federal government to smoke marijuana to ease the pain
caused by multiple sclerosis. Husband
Gary Kilburn says
the relief begins within minutes

By
Peter Duffy
The Halifax Herald Limited
Monday, October 7, 2002

THE
MARIJUANA issue hasn't been mentioned yet by either of us. Sipping
tea in Jane Parker's living room, I wait for her to raise the
topic. Which is silly, really. After all, it's the drug thing
that's brought me here to this straggle of houses on the South
Mountain, near Bridgetown.

Jane
Parker is a rare individual; she smokes marijuana on a regular
basis, and it's all quite legal. This mother to seven has Ottawa's
permission to smoke it for medicinal purposes. Jane, 40, was
diagnosed with multiple sclerosis four years ago. She says only
marijuana offers her a modicum of relief from the pain. "This
was not my first choice of drug," she assures me. "I tried everything
they gave me (but) I got tired of living with the side effects." Jane
is one of 834 people who has Health Canada's permission to possess
marijuana for health reasons. Of that number, 700 may also grow
their own. Jane is one of them, too.

This
feisty woman contacted me, shocked and angered by criticism I'd
levelled at another sanctioned marijuana smoker. "Coming from
you," she'd remarked, "I wondered how the rest of world felt
about us." So here I am, hoping to learn what life is like for
someone in such pain that she resorts to an illicit drug for
relief. Frankly, this isn't easy for me. I don't do drugs and
have little time for those who do, especially the hard kind.
Not that I'm perfect. I tried marijuana back in the 60s, but
it didn't do anything for me. Jane, too, tried marijuana when
she was younger. Like me, she wasn't a big fan. "I gave it up
for motherhood and alcohol," she remarks, grinning.

But
then came the multiple sclerosis, the same disease which was
to claim her mother last December at age 61. Jane was in such
discomfort that she took up marijuana again in 1998. She can't
work and has no private medical insurance. Her only income is
a federal disability pension of $7,000 a year. Despite her battle,
she hasn't given up on life. She's studying for a nutritional
practitioner's degree, which will allow her to teach others how
to eat properly and use vitamins in their diet. Gary Kilburn,
whom she married a year ago, is with a private security firm.

As
we chat, Jane arches her back, trying to get comfortable on the
sprawling old couch. "I took it for granted for 36 years," she
says through gritted teeth. "The feel of grass beneath my feet,
the feel of my hair through my fingers." "And now?" I ask She
shrugs. "Every time I walk, it feels like sharp shards of red-hot
glass going through my feet and up my back." She says even her
toes are affected. I lean forward. Sure enough, they're twitching
uncontrollably.

Jane
neither sleeps nor eats properly. She's as slender as a whippet,
standing 5-7 and weighing barely 110 pounds. These days, she
rarely leaves the house because of the pain. "It's unrelenting," she
says. And because she falls down a lot, she's equipped with a
cane, a walker and a wheelchair. She's also incontinent. She
rolls her hazel eyes. "This disease doesn't have the decency
to kill you outright," she growls. Life is "stolen from you day
by day." Gary kisses her forehead. "I feel helpless," he says. "There's
not a lot I can do except try to look after her." Jane has given
up on prescribed medications because of the side effects. Today,
the only one she takes is clonazepam, a sedative. And, of course,
the marijuana.

As
we talk, she rises unsteadily from the couch, takes a regular
cigarette from a pack, lights it and shuffles to the open back
door. There, she squats, blowing the smoke outside. "I didn't
want my second-hand smoke blowing in your face," she calls to
me. Concerned about her frail health in the chill morning draft,
I beg her to return. "You'd rather be smoking a joint, right?" I
exclaim as she sits. She nods, the pain in her eyes now quite
noticeable. I urge her to do what she has to. Eagerly, Jane stubs
out the cigarette, goes into the kitchen and returns with a lit
joint. She says it's her third this morning.

Easing
onto the couch, she closes her eyes and inhales deeply. The pungent
aroma fills the room. Within minutes, literally, Jane is a changed
woman. The arched back is gone; her limbs are relaxed; even her
toes are still. The effect is remarkable. So is her determination
to continue using marijuana, even if she has to do it illegally,
just like before - which, she tells me, may soon be the case.
Saturday, Part 2: Ottawa changes the rules, causing a crisis
for Jane.

-
Part 2 -

New
rules, however, are threatening her situation.Red
tape slows getting pot for pain

Saturday,
November 16, 2002
By Peter Duffy
The Halifax Herald Limited

SHE
PUTS what's left of the joint in the ashtray, sinks back into
the couch and closes her eyes. Moments ago, she was in such pain
that her back was arched and her limbs were stiff. Now, she's
snuggled into the cushions, wiry frame relaxed, bare feet no
longer twitching.

Even
to someone as opposed to drugs as I am, it's hard not to be awed
by the difference in this 40-year-old. "It still hurts," she
murmurs, "but it's not as bad as it could be." Jane was diagnosed
with multiple sclerosis four years ago.

Her
husband, Gary Kilburn, stands behind her, stroking her long dark
hair. "In all the years I've lived with Jane," he remarks, "I
haven't seen her stoned." It's mid-morning and this is her third
joint. "I'll be fine until the afternoon," she murmurs. When
she's having a "good" day, she'll smoke four or five joints.
On a bad day, it'll be twice that. "I'm not a criminal!" she
assures me. "This is not something I do recreationally!"

Since
last November, Jane has had federal permission to have on her
person 150 grams of marijuana and to store another 1,125 grams.
She's also allowed to grow 25 plants outside or 10 plants inside.

Sadly,
Jane's battle for relief is far from over. For one thing, there's
no legal way for her to obtain the marijuana plants she needs.
Like a scenario from Alice in Wonderland, Health Canada gives
Jane and more than 800 other Canadians permission to use the
drug, but doesn't actually supply it.

Federal
experiments with confiscated marijuana plants have run into problems.
Jane has managed to obtain some seeds and is growing them in
buckets. The problem is, the plants won't be ready for harvesting
until next year. Until then, she must buy from the street and
that bothers her. "Every time I have to buy, I'm trapped," she
exclaims. "I'm committing a crime, but I have no other source
to get from." Buying from dealers means Jane can never be sure
of the quality of what she's getting. "I've got some really good
stuff and some really bad stuff, for which I paid $280 an ounce." Her
pain is so unrelenting that she needs three to five grams of
pot a day, which means her ounce is gone in a week or less. To
date, Jane estimates she's spent about $10,000 on pot. "I'm putting
it on my tax as medical expenses," she vows in all seriousness.

In
the early days of her disease, Jane took a cocktail of prescribed
drugs to ease the debilitating effects of her disease. The side
effects were so severe, however, that she had to stop taking
all but one. Hence the marijuana. "It eases my pain and gives
me an appetite," she says. "It helps me sleep, helps my mood.
I don't feel so sorry for myself any more." Jane continues to
be awed by the effects of the marijuana. "Six years ago," she
relates, "I was bed-bound, wheelchair-bound and I slept all the
time. People had to come and bathe me." Today, she's better able
to care for herself and her family and is even studying for a
degree. She feels she has regained a quality of life she'd lost
to the disease. Unfortunately, pot permits are valid for only
one year, which means Jane must reapply. And therein lies a big
problem. Originally, permits were granted based on a two-page
letter from a family doctor. Today, there's a new application
process, one involving a 32-page form and requiring the signature
of a pain specialist. Jane is disheartened. "Who knows more about
me than my family doctor," she fumes.

Frustrated
but realistic, she's made an appointment at the pain clinic in
Halifax. Worryingly, the earliest appointment she could get was
in 19 months. "So, what will you do?" I ask. "I won't stop," she
growls. Jane is lobbying Health Canada fiercely for an extension.
The last thing she wants is to be sent to jail and denied access
to the one substance that helps her. "Guaranteed, I'll come out
in a wheelchair and need hospital," she growls. Personally, I
doubt it'll come to that. After spending a morning with Jane,
my bet is that Health Canada stands no chance against this tigress.
At least, I hope not. Postcript: Jane has been granted a one-month
extension to her permit with the likelihood of a further five
months to follow.